Author: punchwpadmin

Words by Sheri Baer

Colorful boats perfectly reflected along a canal in Burano, Italy. Tannery workers processing leather in dye pits in Fez, Morocco. A pair of Gentoo penguins squawking in Antarctica. Each image teleports you to a distinct, far-off place, prompting curiosity and careful study.

“For me, photography is really a treasure hunt,” remarks Bill Scull, a Los Altos tech executive who successfully merges art with a lifelong passion for travel. “I love trying to capture images that tell the whole story in one image—about a culture, about a person, about a scene.”

In Bill’s case, it’s a creative quest that’s taken him all over the planet—nearly 100 countries to date—from Cuba to Croatia, Ghana to the Galapagos Islands, Patagonia to the South Pacific. Originally from the East Coast (with a childhood that included extended stays in the Marshall Islands), Bill first embraced photography as an engineering major at MIT. “I needed a creative outlet to balance out the highly intense engineering curriculum,” he recalls. “I love the act of photography because it causes me to be very tuned into my environment.”

Stanford Business School brought Bill west and the “spectacularly better weather” and business culture kept him here. In 1984, he settled with his family in Los Altos, eventually pivoting from a career in tech marketing and strategy into executive coaching, which includes mentoring social entrepreneurs and business founders in Africa and South Asia.

Balancing family and career with excursions, travel lectures and commercial assignments, Bill continues to click away. As to what catches his eye, what triggers the snap of the shutter? “A face could be amazing or a reflection. There’s the way colors work. I’m very attracted to human artifacts, human clutter,” he says. “Clothes on the line, shoes at the doorstep, coats on the rack, pots and pans in the kitchen.”

That shared human experience is the basis for connection, he explains. And the act of travel—engaging with different places and cultures—is what makes headlines from distant parts of the world feel less abstract. “When you’ve been there, it’s even more personal,” Bill points out. “The reason I like to take pictures in unfamiliar cultures is that it’s such a discovery for me. If you pay attention and are quick, you can capture those magical moments, those perfect moments—and pass along what it is that was there.”

Bill’s Travel Photo Tips

• Always be looking for shots. When you really look around, you’ll notice things consciously and subconsciously that tickle your imagination: shapes, lighting, leading lines, shadows, reflections, colors, people, markets, street vendors. Experiment!
• Tell a story. Use your photos to tell a story about the place and people you are visiting. Identify what is unique about their lives and create images that capture that sense of place.
• Ask permission. Before capturing street portraits, ask permission. How would you feel if someone popped up in your supermarket and repeatedly snapped your picture?

• Plan ahead. Research your destination, read about its history and search for images. That will spark your imagination and inspire a shot list. Refer to the shot list as you plan your daily adventures.
• Take lots of pictures. The only way to improve is to take lots of photos. Take multiple shots of the same scene using different exposures, angles or framing—then choose the best to edit.
• Keep it simple. Less is more. Discern the primary subject and spend a few seconds just before you press the shutter to tidy up the framing, excluding distracting elements and including important ones. Make sure the space around the primary subject is balanced.

Elevate Art Menlo Park Exhibit

Walgreens Storefront • 643 Santa Cruz Avenue
A collection of Bill Scull’s photography curated to encourage passersby to stop and learn how engaging images are created. elevateartmp.org

Broaden Your World

scull.smugmug.com

Words by Johanna Harlow

Immigrant, chef, author. For Menlo Park’s Donia Bijan, these first two identity markers weave intrinsically into the third. The Last Days of Café Leila—Donia’s novel about a woman named Noor and her return to her family’s restaurant in the beautiful but brutal city of Tehran after spending most of her adult life in the Bay Area—is flavored by Donia’s own experiences leaving her birth country on the eve of the Iranian Revolution as well as her culinary education and decade-long run heading Palo Alto restaurant L’Amie Donia.

Like your character Noor, you moved to the U.S. as a student. Can you tell me about that experience?
I came to America in 1978, on the cusp of turning 16. When you’re that young, you’re more resilient. But later, when my parents immigrated, I never stopped to ask them, “What was it like to lose your homeland?” At 16, I was self-involved and thinking, “Do I have the right jeans?” So in my writing, I’m asking the questions I wish I’d asked: “What was it like to start from nothing?” “What was it like to build a whole new life in a new place?” I will probably always write about exile and homesickness in different contexts because those questions are not resolved. I want to keep exploring them.

How was working in the restaurant industry?
Restaurant work is like war. You’re always on, you are likely to get wounded and you’re under tremendous pressure all the time. You run from fire to fire. There is very little contact with the world outside the restaurant. My husband always teases me: “Oh yeah, this song came out when you were in ‘The Cave.’” I have no idea about pop culture between 1986 to 2004 (when I closed L’Amie Donia). I was sucked into the vacuum of the restaurant world.

So what kept you coming back?
Oh, I was in love with it. The intensity. The pressure. Ultimately, you fall in love with what you’re cooking. You have this love affair with the dish. Each time you make it, it’s the first time. It’s a high because when you fall in love, you’re swept off your feet—but then you have to say goodbye. It’s like a Casablanca moment because that dish belongs to somebody else who’s paid for it, and you send it away and you’re left longing for someone else to order it. And it happens again and again and again. It’s indescribable.

You returned to France later in your career to further hone your culinary skills. How was that?
I worked for three months at different Michelin restaurants. After a few weeks, the chef would say, “All right, you’ve seen everything here. Do you want to go work for so-and-so? He’s near Provence.” Or, “He’s in Milan.” And I would get on a train with my knives and show up. At one stop, I remember the owner of a laundromat loaned me an iron for my uniforms. Until then, I’d been putting them under the mattress to smooth them out. Every night, after service, as if in prayer, I knelt by my bed and ironed my chef’s coat and trousers. Those are the memories that really stick with me because it felt like I was having a religious experience. I was a monk, and this was what I had to do to reach the next level.

In the past, you’ve compared making menus to poetry. Can you unpack those similarities?
Composing menus combined my love of writing with my love of food. The idea for a dish would come to me from one ingredient. I waited for it, and it arrived in the form of a sprig of lavender or an apple. I used the analogy of poetry because poems distill an experience. One dish can capture the essence of fall. And so I saw each dish as a little haiku, that would sort of transport you into the season. You’d be like, “Concord grapes… October… Of course!”

It reminds me of character development—the inkling of an idea and how it expands.
I never thought of it that way, but you’re right! So often someone will stop me on the street and say, “Rabbit! I always ordered that rabbit dish.” It was like they were talking about a person they looked forward to seeing every time they came in. And how each time it was a little different, but essentially the same. I closed L’Amie Donia in 2004, and people still stop to tell me how much they miss a certain dish.

How is restaurant work in contrast to writing?
I thought I was a hard worker and a very disciplined person.But writing—sitting down at a desk and being still and stringing words together—is so much harder than cooking for 200 to 300 people a night! A good day is when I can feel the characters in the room with me and we’re writing this story together. They’re guiding me and saying, “Do this. Don’t do that.” “I want to go here, not there.” And my job is to listen. A bad day is when they don’t show up and the silence is deafening.

In your book, food is linked with family as well as culture, community and memory. Why is that?
In my world, they’re inseparable. I think in many homes, the kitchen is sort of the epicenter, the heartbeat. I loved spending time with my mom in the kitchen. A lot happens there. You’re being nourished in so many other ways than just with food. The word in Farsi for stomach and heart is the same. Maybe that’s a subliminal thing in my head. They’re always connected.

How did you create the characters of Café Leila?
I had these three people—the father, the daughter and the granddaughter—as this triangle in my head for a good two or three years. I would hear the three of them knocking on my window. “We’re still here! What are you gonna do with us? We’re still interested in this project.” And I would be like, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Then I opened the door an inch and let one of them in. They were almost fully formed! To this day, I wonder where they came from.

Do you have a good support system backing you?
It was my husband [the artist Mitchell Johnson] who encouraged me to submit my writing. He has been a champion believer from day one. Each day, his parting words as he walks out the door to go to his studio are, “I can’t wait to read your book.” Every writer should be so lucky.

I know you’re working on a new novel. How have you seen your writing evolve?
I learned that a novel has the potential to feel like a home. When someone comes to your house, you don’t leave them standing on your doorstep. You invite them in for tea! Early in my writing, I wasn’t letting readers inside. You’ve got to let them see the raw emotion. It’s okay if the pillows aren’t arranged perfectly on the couch or the flowers in the vase are half-dead. A real person lives here. So open your heart and let ‘em in!

Words by Lotus Abrams

The first thing visitors tend to notice when they arrive at a new home tucked into a cul-de-sac in a 1950s neighborhood of Hillsborough is that there’s something different about the walls. Minimalist and dense like concrete yet softer and more organic in appearance, the distinctive walls are crafted from rammed earth, a method that has been employed for thousands of years (the Great Wall of China was built using this technique) and is seeing a resurgence in modern, eco-friendly construction. The home is the first rammed-earth project for San Mateo-based TRG Architecture + Interior Design, owned by architect Randy Grange and interior designer Leslie Lamarre, a husband-and-wife team who utilize many organic, natural and sustainable elements in their projects.

TRG’s client was motivated to purchase the Hillsborough property because of its proximity to the homes of some of his close friends, but the original house was inefficiently sited and would have been difficult to remodel to achieve his desired indoor-outdoor aesthetic. Instead, he opted to build his dream home—a calming antidote to busy life. TRG helped him realize his vision.

“The client came to me with some images of houses that he liked with concrete walls that are inside-outside, and also some masonry walls where the wall goes from the outside to the inside and becomes an interior finish,” recounts Randy. “I suggested the rammed earth because it provides the same effect yet is warmer, earthier and more environmentally friendly.”
Rammed-earth walls are made from soil pounded or “rammed” at very high pressure. The material is eco-friendly, as dirt is a renewable resource, while cement produces high amounts of CO2 during the manufacturing process. The high thermal mass of rammed-earth walls also effectively slows down heat transfer between the inside and the outside, keeping interior temperatures stable.

Prior to this home, there had only been one other rammed-earth project in Hillsborough, but TRG sailed through the approval process. “The design review board loved it, and the building department was so cool about it, so it wasn’t the challenge I thought it was going to be,” remarks Randy, who teamed with CBW Construction on the project. TRG also relied on an engineer and a rammed-earth specialist in Sonoma to ensure everything went as planned during construction. “The rammed-earth walls were the first thing that went up,” Randy says. “It took a couple months more than you would normally spend upfront, but then the house went together just like any other house.”

The new 5,270-square-foot, four-bedroom, four-and-a-half-bath home features 18- to 24-inch-thick walls (versus the typical 10 to 12 inches for cement), which not only make the home structurally sound, but also create a dramatic contrast to the glass window walls. The house takes full advantage of the site, too, with a staggered footprint that follows the curve of the road, and the design employs horizontal lines that complement the neighborhood’s existing ranch homes.

Adding a soothing element to the design, a series of intimate Zen gardens designed by Keith Willig Landscape Architecture are strategically placed outside the home. “When you walk through the house, you’re always in contact with one of the rammed-earth walls that are coming in from outside as well as glass, so it created space for these little Zen gardens,” Randy notes. “You really don’t walk more than 10 or 15 feet inside the house without seeing another one of the gardens.”

In addition, the home’s entrance features a raised ipe wood bridge over a Japanese rock garden punctuated by an ancient olive tree. The rest of the property and the pool are surrounded by gentle berms created from dirt excavated during the construction process and filled with native grasses and drought-tolerant plants. The home is also equipped with solar panels discreetly located out of view.

Inside, the rammed-earth walls set the tone for the interior design, and Leslie worked with the client’s own interior designer to ensure everything came together. “The home has a quiet palette so as not to take away from the predominant element of interest, which is the rammed-earth walls,” she says. Wide-plank timber flooring is used throughout, and the second-floor office captures a small view of the Bay. The gourmet kitchen features Henrybuilt cabinets, and a modern chandelier from Stickbulb hangs above the dining room table. “It’s minimalist with a flare,” summarizes Leslie.
Now solidly grounded in his new neighborhood, the client is thrilled with the result. “He had a vision about what he was looking for,” Randy affirms. “He especially loves the heaviness of the walls.”

Realize a Vision: trgarch.com

Words by Kate Daly

As a young girl, Katie Anderson remembers eyeing an aquarium in a pet store and being way more interested in the bejeweled treasure chest resting in the gravel than the colorful fish. Decades later, her own family has three dogs, some chickens, turtles and a guinea pig running around in Atherton, the same town where she grew up, but she is still drawn to jewels, as the name of her business confirms: Katie Anderson Diamonds.

“I have always loved jewelry, the design element, the sparkle element,” she says. “I come from a family of entrepreneurs and venture capitalists, so I wanted to create something of value.”

Katie chose diamonds, thinking they would appreciate and people would appreciate them. After selling about 10,000 pieces to date, she figures she has brought a lot of sparkle into people’s lives.

“I want to be your village jeweler,” she explains, and yet the texting that takes place during her design process enables her to have clients all over the world. Some customers even buy for the year: Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, birthday, anniversary and holiday gifts.

Katie started taking orders for Valentine’s Day back in November. The most popular requests were tennis bracelets, tennis necklaces, earrings and monograms in a style she describes as “timeless, clean, traditional and elegant.” A recent inquiry led to the unique ring she fashioned around a black opal she sourced in Australia.

Katie smiles when she recalls creating her very first piece: a simple diamond pendant that inspired friends and family in the community to place orders with an 18-year-old.

At the time, she was a senior at Menlo School and headed to Stanford when she won a $10,000 award from a national dyslexia association. Using the check as seed money, she walked into the jewelry mart in San Francisco and found “a wonderful man who must have been bored,” because he spent a lot of time sharing his knowledge. Today, almost 20 years later, she says, “He’s one of my buyers; we buy directly from families who have been in the diamond business for hundreds of years.”

For her metals, Katie buys directly from her “magical team of manufacturers in LA,” and only sells stones certified by the Gemological Institute of America, which numbers gems and tracks chains of custody. She sells all organic diamonds, nothing grown in a laboratory. Katie also doesn’t see the necessity of paying the high prices that flawless D diamonds command when those rated E, F and G provide “enough quality” for rings, and H diamonds with some inclusions or characteristics can work well for earrings.

Buying direct allows Katie to offer a unique business model—selling pieces at cost. “There’s no middle man,” she shares. “I don’t take an income and make no profit. We pay for labor and materials and then taxes. Everything is made in California.”

A few years ago, Katie started her Brilliant Heroes program after a retired Navy Seal asked her to design a $500 engagement ring. Having family members of her own in the Navy, she was moved to offer him more than a band with a small stone. “We’re going to get you two carats, and I’m going to cover this,” she told him. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for your service.”

That decision led to a system whereby clients who can pay a suggested 10% more than cost end up donating it to help fund the 10% discount she gives to service members, first responders, nurses and teachers.

Since Katie doesn’t advertise, most clients find her via word-of-mouth and contact her through her website, katieandersondiamonds.com. It serves as a lookbook, not a shopping site. She keeps little inventory on hand and might create a limited edition of 10 pieces; otherwise, she designs on demand.
For an engagement ring, for example, Katie will ask her client about diamond shape, cut and color preferences, metal choices, ring size, timeline and budget. She probes to find out how involved the bride wants to be. “Young people need to remember a proposal is about a marriage and not the ring,” she underscores.

The design process begins with exchanging sketches, photos and CAD (computer-aided design) drawings back and forth. The next step could be using a 3-D printer to make a mockup in wax so the bride can try on the piece to see how it looks, fits and feels. Katie takes pride in designs that “use as little metal as possible to make the stones sparkle.”
She views diamonds as dazzling gems that can be worn every day. Her own diamond wedding band features one pink, one yellow and one blue diamond to honor her three young children. She currently has no engagement ring, she admits, because she keeps upgrading and selling it.

Meanwhile, Katie has started a new venture on the side. When things quieted down in 2020 and she found herself at home in June with her venture capitalist husband and kids, the little ones asked for a bedtime story about Christmas. Katie turned it into the recently published children’s book, Holly Holiday and the Christmas Forest. And she has another one, Happy Birthday Holly Holiday, coming out this spring. Spoiler alert: it’s not about the diamond tiara Katie once designed for a 16-year-old’s birthday. That’s a whole other story.

The Art of sparkle: katieandersondiamonds.com

Words by Sheryl Nonnenberg

In 2012, Caroline Mustard’s son bought her an iPad for her birthday and suggested she use it to return to drawing. A native of Cornwall, England, Caroline holds degrees in Fine Art from the University of Brighton and had a career in art direction and scenic painting in Hollywood in the 1980s. She took a break from creative endeavors after moving to the Bay Area, but the gift of the iPad proved to be a pivotal event in her art journey.

It’s not hard to imagine how revelatory the iPad was to the former painter. Here was a device that could answer any question, play music, translate languages and map a destination. Opening an app called Paper, Caroline drew a zebra and became hooked. “I was so excited—I showed it to everyone,” she recalls. “I have always loved anything to do with computers, and soon I became obsessed with making art on my iPad and iPhone.”

Little did she know that what began as experimentation would result in a second career as a digital artist. In 2013, Caroline’s zeal for creating art using technology motivated her to co-found the Mobile Art Academy, a hub for artists using the medium. She also discovered a passion for teaching and has become well known for her classes at Palo Alto’s Pacific Art League and, since the pandemic, on Zoom. Her motto is a call to arms for anyone who has toyed with the idea of making art: “Digital is democratic—everyone can be creative.”

Sitting down with Caroline in the office of the Atherton Art Foundation, it’s easy to see why her classes are so popular. She exudes a joy and enthusiasm for art and art history that is positively contagious. As she shares tales from her artistic past, she refers to examples of her art on her phone, visually documenting the journey of how her personal style has evolved. From that first zebra to complicated layering of photography and drawing, using ever more sophisticated applications, Caroline is always learning.

What she did not foresee is how much she would love teaching. She explains that she began teaching children to use their iPads for making art at the Los Altos Christian School. From there, she launched into providing instruction for various municipal recreation programs in Menlo Park and Los Altos. She found her way to the Pacific Art League, which was initially interested but not sure if a digital art class would garner enrollment. But a major exhibition of iPad art by British artist David Hockney at the de Young Museum in 2013 soon changed that perception.

For Caroline, the exhibition was a transformative experience. “Hockney is my go-to artist,” she explains. “I have loved him since the ‘60s because he is always exploring and he loves the history of art. I agree with everything he says.” Seeing the large-scale work that Hockney had done in his native Yorkshire, Caroline recognized the potential of the digital medium—and what it would require to master it. “I saw that I needed to work hard and get my art out there,” she says.

Caroline created a website and her digital art began to attract interest. Following a show at the Pacific Art League, she participated in a group show at Art Ventures Gallery in Menlo Park and a large-scale solo show at the Jewish Community Center in Palo Alto. She is quick to explain, however, that courting gallery affiliations was never a priority for her. Sharing her passion for digital art with others is her main motivation. “Teaching is symbiotic for me: I can earn money and I love to teach,” she says. “I get inspired by teaching and I have to stay ahead of my students. It makes me work!”

Caroline’s teaching—and her conversation—is peppered with quotes from famous artists whom she admires. “All of my classes are steeped in art history,” she laughs. Discounting the old adage about how art teachers are failed artists, she cites Paul Klee and Wassily Kandinsky, both of whom were teachers. When asked if she has encountered any prejudice against digital art, she nods but then quotes Picasso: “Artists break rules.” And as to how working on her iPhone and iPad has kept her work vital and innovative, she cites another favorite artist, Wayne Thiebaud. “He said, ‘I think of myself as a beginner. Sometimes that’s the whole joy. If you could just do it, there’d be no point in doing it.’”

One thing Caroline has noticed while teaching adults is the lack of ability to draw. She attributes this to the lamentable demise of art education in schools and also the trend of not teaching basic drawing skills to art students. This is integral, she believes, in making art because “drawing is looking.” The good news, however, is that it is a skill that can be honed through practice on a ubiquitous device: the iPhone. “Digital is drawing, you are just using different tools,” Caroline says, adding that she sketches all the time, using Procreate Pocket on her iPhone. Whether on a bus, in a park or at a café, she is constantly observing and drawing. Has anyone ever noticed her attentive regard? “Never!” she exclaims. “I call it ‘stealth drawing’ because people don’t even know I am doing it.”

Perusing the iPhone work on her website carolinemustard.com, one can see a variety of subject matter, from autumn leaves to a still life of fruit to a cellist holding his instrument. These sketches, created using her finger as a tool, sometimes make their way into paintings and always are boldly and brightly colored. “Color is my passion, and I could never understand it as well without digital,” she explains. With the mobility provided by the iPhone, Caroline has the ability to record everything—and anything—around her. While living in Mountain View, she was inspired by the many bicycles she saw on the Google campus. Google Bikes is a fascinating study of color and line, capturing motion in the style of the Italian futurists. It was purchased by the interior design department of the company and now hangs in their bicycle building. “Capturing what I see, that is what my art is about—memory,” she muses.

Caroline is now working on a series about San Francisco, which began with an iPhone sketch of an empty storefront near Russian Hill. This work will entail what she refers to as “drawing fusion,” using both traditional media and digital. Clearly a proponent of the idea that art is around us, everywhere, Caroline also feels strongly that “our phones let us see things we can’t see otherwise.”

The advent of digital technology rekindled Caroline Mustard’s love for art, and by sharing her knowledge and talents with others, she finds fulfillment. “I can get people to create art who never thought they could,” she reflects with wonder.

To purchase books and find more information about online and in-person workshops, visit thejoyofdrawing.org

Words by Johanna Harlow

In a warehouse near Candlestick Point, Greek figures intermingle with medieval dragons, busts and big cats. While half-finished works await, chunks of stone and a powdering of rock dust on the floor show the layers shed by sculptor Manuel Palos’ stony creations—the archeological representation of a lifetime of work.

This afternoon, Manuel—his shirt the color of brick, his beret a shade of sandstone—considers a partially-molded woman on his worktable. “It’s not just jumping in. You’ve got to talk to them first,” Manuel explains as he holds the figure’s gaze. “My goal is to make a connection with each piece that I work on. This allows me to feel their energy and it guides me on how they want to be created.” Gently cupping her clay hand, Manuel finesses her fingers with a tiny wooden paddle. “Some days, they may not want to be touched, so I step away and work on something else. They let me know when they are ready to work together again.”

With over half a century of work under his chisel, Manuel’s handiwork can be found throughout the Peninsula, San Francisco and Mexico. He’s done it all. Bronze, marble, stone, clay. Classic, modern, art deco. Historical preservations, ornamental pieces, figure work. Commissions for doctors, lawyers, educators and politicians. And the 85-year-old shows no signs of slowing down. “Any item, any style, whatever they want—I’ll do it,” he promises.

Though Manuel welcomes all projects, he prefers figurative to decorative work. “I respect both,” he insists, but “figures are more meaningful than just a leaf. They’re more challenging.” When someone commissions the artist for a portrait, the process is personal. “First of all, I like to talk to the person and look in their eyes,” he shares. “Their smile… The way they laugh and talk… That’s the first thing I capture.” He then takes photos of his subject in different poses, both playful and serious. “That’s how you start to get the figure: the personality,” he observes.

It’s a fascination that has enthralled Manuel since childhood. “When I was a kid, my brother and I used to make little figurines in clay,” he recalls of his youth growing up in the Mexican state of Zacatecas. “We used to sell them for pennies.” This afforded the boys luxuries like candy and trips to the cinema. “We didn’t have to ask Papa for money to go to the movies!” he chuckles.

Manuel’s smile reveals a scar. Carved from lip to chin, he received it from a harrowing car accident that killed a dear friend. “I was lucky,” Manuel shakes his head. “I had a lot of work to do yet.”

And he set out to do it. In his late twenties, Manuel moved from Southern California to San Francisco to work as a moldmaker on the reconstruction of the Palace of Fine Arts. Back then, sculptors were in scarce supply in the City, the artist reflects. “We were working with people from different countries because they couldn’t find anyone here.” Many connected with the project through an ad in an international publication, flying from far-off places like France, Spain and Italy to offer their services.

Not long after joining the team, Manuel found himself elevated to assistant to the sculptor, aiding with scrollwork and colossal figures. “I learned how to work in that scale,” he notes. Surrounded by talented artists, Manuel thrived. “I learned from all of them,” he says. When they gave him advice, he listened. “They told me, ‘Manuel, you’re good at this. You should go to Italy. We are old already and we can’t teach you more.’”

To date, he’s taken more than 30 trips to perfect his craft—at workshops in Pietrasanta and Carrara and by soaking in the presence of the Masters. “That was a dream,” he reflects. “I saw the best there.” He cites Florence as his favorite Italian city, but adds that he discovered inspiration all over. “Everywhere you go, you see art!”

After recreating a fleet of 13-foot eagles to perch atop the Pacific Telephone Building (the tallest building in SF at the time), Manuel was hired to remake six larger-than-life mythological figures for the domed roof of the Legion of Honor museum—no easy task. “I was scared at the beginning, you know?” concedes Manuel. “Sometimes at night, I’d ask, ‘What am I doing? What am I doing?’ But then the next day, ‘Let’s go!’”

Over the years, Manuel’s Peninsula projects have ranged from planters for Stanford Shopping Center to hand-carved detailing and stonework for private residences—most impressively Hillsborough’s Chiltern Estate. For this luxurious castle-esque mansion, Manuel crafted interior arches and columns as well as eight chimney stacks designed to look like pillars. In Woodside, the Family Farm club commissioned Manuel to create a striking bronze stork.

Other memorable projects include additions to the famed Neiman Marcus rotunda in San Francisco and the Veterans Memorial Building in Berkeley. Manuel’s work is so prolific, in fact, that the mayor recognized him with his own San Francisco day on August 11 (Manuel’s birthday).

Another claim to fame for Manuel: the massive stone dragon fireplace he crafted for Nicholas Cage back in the ‘90s. When the shaggy-haired actor first showed up to wander the warehouse, Manuel had no idea who the man was. “I thought he was a hippie,” Manuel laughs. So when Cage requested a dragon to put above his fireplace, Manuel assumed he was kidding. “I’m gonna play his joke,” the artist remembers thinking. “I said, ‘No, I have a better idea! Why don’t I give you a big, big dragon—then you put the fireplace in the mouth!” Cage, a fan of all things Goth, enthusiastically agreed—and when Manuel received the check, he finally realized the guy was serious. The result was a fearsome 13-foot-tall creature, all claws and spikes and teeth. Manuel is currently babysitting the 4.5-ton beast while its owner moves into his new place.

Beyond his original work, Manuel also has a penchant for preservation. Frequently, he restores (or recreates) crumbling historical elements for public buildings, homes, parks and other sites. Also a collector, Manuel’s antiques range from a Victorian-era limestone griffin to a 16th-century marble nativity scene salvaged from a church in Tuscany. Manuel points out cracks in the nativity scene that he will soon seal with epoxy. “They told me that after World War II, many art pieces were broken or damaged,” he notes. “But look at the details!

His ongoing pet project involves a series of colossal Mayan molds bequeathed to him by the late Joan Patten. Back in the ‘60s, Manuel learned of this intrepid sculptress and her efforts to track down Mayan ruins in the jungles of Guatemala, preserving them with massive latex molds. At the time, she was the only person authorized by the Guatemalan government to make reproductions of these ancient works.

“She was looking for someone who had expertise in sculpting and moldmaking to assist her with the restoration of the molds,” Manuel explains. “Joan knew that I had the same vision as her in preserving these beautiful treasures so that future generations can benefit and learn from them.” These giant inscribed slabs, some over 20 feet tall, are weighty with history. “It’s a whole world up there,” Manuel describes, tilting his head at an ancient prince with a headdress of resplendent quetzal feathers.

“We want to give them a proper home,” adds Manuel’s daughter, Alejandra Palos, who manages her father’s studio and is a sculptor in her own right. Both father and daughter hope to see replicas displayed at universities and museums. “I mean, their home is here. But we want to give others the opportunity to really see them and to experience them,” Alejandra shares. “Scholars can learn from them and classes could be held about them.”

Looking to the future as well as the past, Manuel instructs the next generation of sculptors at his San Francisco and Puerto Vallarta studios. Both beginners and more advanced students are welcome. “Visualize your final creation and take the necessary steps to get it done,” he advises sculptors of all levels. “It can be frustrating at times, when it may not be going how you would like it to. That’s why it is so important to build a relationship with your creations.”

But don’t misunderstand: Manuel isn’t passing off the torch. “I’m still alive! I’ve got a long way to go,” the octogenarian asserts with a youthful grin and a determined glint in his eyes.

Set in Stone – manuelpalos.com

Words by Sophia Markoulakis

Creating a textile design brand is a gutsy undertaking, even for an interior design veteran like Menlo Park’s Sarah Boyden. After a successful 35-year career in residential and commercial design, Sarah recently embarked on a new artistic and professional endeavor as a textile designer. “There is no manual for this type of business,” she says of her new venture, a pursuit she affectionately describes as her “labor of love.”

Sarah’s enthusiasm is palpable, and she sees a touch of destiny in the switch. “I was wrapping up projects so that I could retire my business,” she recounts, “and I pulled out drawings of motifs and flowers that I had made years before while traveling to visit my son in college.” The pandemic slowdown allowed the time and space to rekindle her passion for the medium, and in October 2022, Sarah simultaneously closed Sarah Boyden Interiors and opened Sarah Boyden Home.

One of the pillars of interior design, textiles (fabrics, rugs, wallpaper, upholstery) comprise pretty much anything woven that tells a story through pattern, texture and color and creates a specific feel or emotion. Sarah credits travel with being a creative catalyst, and her knowledge of European textile history influenced her aesthetic when she was running her interior design business. “Like most designers, I was constantly on the hunt for new textiles,” she notes. “I think that many interior designers dream of having their own textile line, and I’ve thought about it for many, many years, but I’ve always been too busy.”

A Virginia native, Sarah has spent the majority of the last 30 years living on the Peninsula. Her brand embraces that duality: Southern roots and California lifestyle. “I love both coasts,” she affirms. “I do what I call the ‘bicoastal bop’ and visit home often to see family and friends. Virginia grounds me.” Sarah’s Menlo Park home is her lab, and the mix of family heirlooms, modern furniture, art and plein air paintings create a perfect backdrop for her textiles that are prominently displayed through window and pillow coverings. Her style is a mashup of Southern sensibility, elevated bohemian and classically eclectic. Talking about her love of color, Sarah quips, “I’m not a gray or beige girl.”

Sarah combines her knowledge of what customers want with her own eye for blending colors and shapes to create whimsical yet classic designs. “There are wonderful fabrics out there, but for me, it was a way to use my skill [drawing] that I learned long ago when I worked for a commercial architecture firm and to pair it with this creative expression that had been simmering on the back burner,” she says.

Sarah’s introductory lineup includes fabric and wallpaper designs ranging from bold florals like “Abloom” that are inspired by antique French Chinoiserie to linear patterns like “Chainlink” that reference great fashion houses like Hèrmes and Gucci. The bold, geometric pattern “DeeDee” is named after her mother, who was known for her needlepoint artistry. “My mom was the needlepoint queen,” Sarah says, “and this design is an homage to one of her original patterns.” Each can be ordered in a different color, and designs are created for layering with Sarah’s other patterns.

Starting with the sketch of an idea becoming the inspiration for a pattern to the transfer of that pattern onto a fabric, it’s a laborious process that can take anywhere from weeks to months. Once Sarah decides on a design, she plays with different color stories to decide how many each will have. Each pattern is grounded in a background color. Her florals, for instance, are composed of different color variations depending on the background. Sarah works with different mediums when determining these color stories.

“Sometimes, I use paint chips or fabric swatches. Sometimes, I paint the patterns in different color variations to determine which color combinations will work together and ultimately sell,” she explains. The completed designs are then digitized and printed on 100% Irish linen.

Even factoring in Sarah’s deep connections with design colleagues and showrooms, the leap hasn’t been easy. “I feel fortunate to have found a few kind, wonderful people who helped guide me and introduced me to the right people, like the woman who takes my designs and digitizes them for production,” says Sarah.

With her company still in its infancy stage, Sarah is actively pursuing designer showrooms and interior designers. “All I need is one influential designer to use a couple of my designs for exposure and to get traction,” she says. “I’m really trying to take care of the interior design community before I branch out into direct sales.” Currently, Sarah’s textiles can be ordered through an Atlanta showroom, Travis & Company.

Sarah’s next creative expedition: India, where she will learn the ancient art of block printing, a tedious task that requires hand-pressing color-dipped blocks onto fabric with focused precision. Her itinerary includes stops in Agra and Jaipur, among other historic textile cities. “Hopefully, soon after my return, I’ll have new designs to add to my inventory inspired by my most recent trip abroad,” she says. “Being in a place that is so uniquely different from where you live is very inspirational.”

weaving stories – sarahboydenhome.com 

Words by Lotus Abrams

Each new year brings the opportunity to examine the way we’re living and take a fresh approach where needed—and that extends to our surroundings at home as well. San Carlos-based interior designer Emily Kates says that clients are especially ready to head in new directions as we enter 2023. “For a while, design was very safe. It was like there was a formula for every space,” Emily notes. “But now, people are ready to push the envelope a bit more. We’re seeing an increasing use of organic shapes, asymmetry and interesting textures and finishes.”

Emily grew up in Portola Valley and started her interior design career working at a large firm in San Francisco after completing the interior architecture and design program at the Academy of Art. After working her way up to design director, however, she decided to move back to the Peninsula nine years ago to start a family, as well as her own practice—and she hasn’t looked back. Going solo has allowed Emily to take a more personal, collaborative approach to working with clients. It’s a strategy that’s clearly resonating, as she recently opened her own studio in downtown San Carlos to accommodate her flourishing practice. “When I started my business, the idea was to take on fewer projects to allow me to be fully engaged from end to end,” Emily says. “I do my own CAD drawings, and I’m there all the way through to turnkey, so I oversee all the ordering and installations.”

This hands-on approach keeps Emily at the forefront as home design trends and clients’ interests continue to evolve. A big driver of trends is social media, which she credits with democratizing the world of design by providing a platform to showcase new ideas, products and raw materials to a broad and increasingly informed audience. And in the year ahead, the influx of inspiration need not be applied solely to primary spaces like kitchens and living rooms.

“It used to feel like design was reserved only for certain people and grand areas of the home,” Emily says. “Now, people are looking at every aspect of the home as equally interesting, including spaces that were historically more utilitarian like closets, laundry rooms and mudrooms.” A pop of color, bespoke wallcoverings, distinctive lighting or unusual flooring materials might appear overwhelming in a primary living area but add interest and a welcome dose of the unexpected in smaller spaces—a practice Emily refers to as “jewel boxing.” “You now have the opportunity to be a little braver with things you might be too hesitant to try in a larger space,” Emily says.

For a recent project Emily completed in San Carlos, an arched doorway, patterned wallcoverings and an Egyptian built-in chest of drawers with a wood top transformed the primary bedroom closet, which was carved into former attic space. (Page 91) “It’s now an incredibly charming, beautiful gem of a room,” she says, adding that the arched doorway was repeated in the entryway for the primary bath. “The space would have felt so different if we’d used regular white doors instead.” In the primary bedroom, Emily covered the wall behind the bed in Holland & Sherry paperback linen: “It’s subtle, so the eye doesn’t necessarily catch it at first, but it provides this kind of warmth in the room versus using just paint, and it gives some sound attenuation because the room has a big, vaulted ceiling—it just feels so elegant.”

Another trend Emily sees emerging this year: clients are beginning to shift away from letting durability dictate their decisions about materials. “For a period of time, durability was the word of the day, but what that meant was that everyone was using man-made stone and performance fabrics, and people were rejecting a lot of beautiful natural materials because they’re not always going to look the same as they do on day one,” she says. “Now I’m seeing a return to an aesthetic where things don’t have to remain absolutely perfect, and it’s allowing the reintroduction of materials like soapstone, marble and softer woods.”

For a project in Hillsborough, Emily used a stunning slab of Grigio Perla marble for the bar countertop, a material many clients would not have chosen in recent years, given that a bar is an environment prone to exposure from acidic liquids. “It will calcify and show rings, but we loved the depth and liked that it would age like a beautiful leather,” Emily explains.

For Emily, the evolution of design trends has allowed her to expand creatively—a win for both her practice and her clients. “I’ve always loved classic design, but I like to keep things fresh in a way that’s relevant to today’s living,” she shares. “At the end of the day, seeing clients’ genuine happiness when they experience their homes and what we’ve all been working toward—that’s why I do this.”

fresh perspective – emilykatesdesign.com

Words by Sheri Baer

Call it rock ‘n’ roll kismet. The setting: a Grammys-themed school fundraiser in 2006. Karaoke is the main event, and a Menlo Park dad dressed like Tom Petty steps up to the mic. “This guy in a top hat and tails is belting out these songs and I’m like… oh my gosh!” recounts Rich Johnson, who had coincidentally shown up as Tom Petty’s Traveling Wilburys bandmate Bob Dylan. As it turns out, the standout vocalist is Rich’s Menlo Park neighbor, Jeff Bird.

For Rich, it was akin to Simon Cowell spotting the X-Factor. “Guys, guys, look what I found!” the bass guitar player raved to Rod Scherba, Allen Weiner and Roger Inman. After connecting over a shared passion for music on the sidelines of a CYSA soccer game in 2004, the group had been regularly jamming in garages. They successfully recruited Jeff (lead singer and guitar), who later looped in another neighbor, Scott Wachhorst, for keyboards and vocals. “We knew then that we had the pieces we needed to form a band,” notes Rod. “It was never for profit,” emphasizes Jeff. “It was mostly to be around friends—so fun, friends and philanthropy.”

And that’s been the ethos of The Members, Menlo Park’s now-legendary rock ‘n’ roll cover band, since the start.

Musically-inclined Menlo Park dads—that’s the common thread. Professionally, they run the gamut with titles like neurosurgeon, law professor, commercial real estate developer and biotech VC. While juggling young kids and demanding careers, they met up for chilly late-night garage practices—grateful for supportive wives. “It was frenetic, there was always something going on, right?” remembers Allen, who learned to play a drum kit in junior high. “I’d be having a stressful day, and I’d often stop and think, ‘Oh, is tonight band night?’ If it was band night, you knew you’d get to hang out with your mates, act a little juvenile in a way that you don’t get to in your day job and do something that you really love—make music.”

Since their official debut at an elementary school picnic, The Members have gone on to master a repertoire of more than 300 songs. They’ve taken the stage at local venues like Pioneer Inn, Freewheel Brewing Company, Club Fox and Menlo Park’s latest live performance space, The Guild. Always a popular draw, they’ve raised hundreds of thousands of dollars through school and community fundraising events.

As gig followed gig, the dad band watched their collective gaggle of kids progress from learning to read to leaving for college and beyond. They marked milestone birthdays and graduations together. And then, one huge, heartbreaking loss: the death of their bandmate, Roger Inman, from diabetes complications in 2020. An audio business executive, Roger not only contributed rhythm guitar, percussion and vocals, he also equipped the garage band to deliver professional-quality sound. “The reason The Members exist is because Roger Inman deemed it so,” reflects Rich. “Losing Roger was like losing a family member,” shares Scott. “We think of him every time we play.”

At a recent performance at The Guild to benefit the Ravenswood Education Foundation, blue, purple and magenta spotlights illuminate the stage. Jeff’s clear voice carries out over the crowd, “She’s got a ticket to ride, She’s got a ticket to r-i–i–ide but she don’t care…” as the rest of The Members chime in, “My baby don’t care… My baby don’t care…” to wrap up the familiar Beatles hit. “That’s an original song,” Jeff quips with an impish grin, after the applause settles. “I’m glad you like that. We’ve got more sing-alongs tonight.”

While they occasionally quibble about song selection, The Members all agree on the genre: classic and current rock ‘n’ roll. Van Morrison. Green Day. The Eagles. Elton John. The Rolling Stones.Counting Crows. Tom Petty. “We started out playing the music that we had grown up with and that we’d listened to and that we loved,” explains Allen. “We also like John Mayer, Train—more contemporary songs—because they’re a little more technical and you can play with them,” continues Jeff. “And you get a real buzz when you get it right, ‘Wow, that just felt fabulous!’”

As a cover band, The Members say they strive for a high degree of fidelity to the original, although they’ll look for ways to add subtle personal touches. “We want people to feel, ‘That’s a song I know and I like that song,’” says Allen. “Our theory is that it makes people think of times when they were partying and maybe it makes them want to dance.”

That’s certainly the case at The Guild, where the dance floor is packed—bodies swaying, arms waving—as the set list unfolds in a back-to-back sequence of crowd-pleasing favorites. “I absolutely love it when the whole band is clicking,” describes Rod, who plays lead guitar. “Allen’s laying down the beat and holding us together. Everybody is singing—Jeff, Rich and Scott have got their beautiful harmonies going—and I can lay down a tasty solo.”

That communal buzz ratchets even higher every October 31, when The Members play their signature Halloween Block Party. What began as a simple offering for the neighborhood kids evolved into an epic “everyone is welcome” event drawing hundreds of neighbors and friends. Set up in Rich’s West Menlo garage (decked out like a haunted castle), they play in costumes—the Warriors, Ted Lasso, even Boris Johnson—amid hay bales, pumpkins, kegs of beer and homemade pizzas, for five-plus rockin’ hours.

When the house directly across the street sold, “We were in the disclosure package,” smirks Rich. “They had to acknowledge that they knew there was a big block party there. When you’re in the land registry, you know you’ve made it. We’ve left our mark.”

Having become bandmates in their early 40s and 50s, The Members now tally their ages as late 50s and 60s. (Jeff’s 60th celebration included a Tahoe performance at Sugar Bowl.) “We cherish each time we’re able to play at a venue, and even the times we just practice in the garage,” sums up Scott.
How long can they keep it going? “I get a kick out of seeing people like Lyle Lovett tour or when The Stones or Springsteen play,” observes Allen. “You can play music for a really long time.”

Back on stage, to the accompaniment of hands clapping and feet stomping, The Members break into the chorus of “Drift Away,” singing, “Give me the beat, boys, and free my soul, I wanna get lost in your rock ‘n’ roll…”

Palo Alto’s Ashly Edwards Huntington frequently walks the Stanford Dish but on this particular day, the view ahead made her slow her stride. “The sky was stormy and ominous,” she describes, “and then I noticed rays of light piercing through the clouds.” After taking in the scene for a few seconds more, Ashly snapped this Perfect Shot: “To me, this represented a poignant promise of hope amidst darkness.”

Image by Ashly Edwards Huntington / @aehgallery

Having called San Mateo home for 25 years, photographer Gino De Grandis shares one of his favorite views from the Laurelwood Shopping Center neighborhood near Highway 92. “It took some preparation to succeed in what I had envisioned,” he says of this Perfect Shot, which was captured as a seven-second exposure with a 400-millimeter lens. “I’m always hoping to get a clear, windless evening. That’s when I can get stunning reflections of light in the calm waters of the Bay.”

Image by Gino De Grandis / luiphotography.com

Calling all shutterbugs: If you’ve captured a unique perspective of the Peninsula, we’d love to see your Perfect Shot. Email us at hello@punchmonthly.com to be considered for publication.

Words by Sheri Baer

Cover Photo: “Tons of natural light,” the clients requested. Dimitra quickly assessed that the original exterior elevation was designed with four smaller windows—two on the upper level and two on the lower level—with a balcony separating the windows. “To maximize lighting on all three floors, we changed the elevation by adding three much larger floor-to-ceiling windows on the facade of the home,” she shares. “The clients could look at their 100-year-old oak tree with filtered sunlight coming through. The floating staircase was an important design element as we didn’t want to compromise the large windows or the view of the oak tree.”

When Peninsula-based interior designer Dimitra Anderson received an inquiry about a new build in Menlo Park, she had just started her second design firm, Dimitra Anderson Home. Prior to that, she had spent the last decade with a former business partner and built a thriving design firm along with an exclusive furniture line.

Launching a second design firm with a new focus and brand was no easy feat. To put a strong foundation in place, Dimitra recruited a team with top-notch project management and technical skills. “I am a creative at heart,” she notes, “and it was important to build a team that could support me and my clients.”

Dimitra took a more modern approach when considering the interior architecture of the home. “We added shiplap around the fireplace in the great room and the same shiplap detail was mimicked on the outside kitchen. We painted the shiplap a charcoal gray in both places and added rift white oak built-in cabinets on either side of the large fireplace,” she says. Since the furniture floats in the space, Dimitra notes the importance of selecting pieces with interesting views, like the wood detail on the back of the sofa. A final touch: adding bifold doors to maximize the indoor/outdoor feel of the space. “We didn’t want the house to feel fussy and it was very important that the design remain timeless with a modern feel,” she summarizes.

In the case of the Menlo Park project, the clients had owned the property for 20 years and loved the neighborhood. Rather than moving, they decided to build their dream home on the same site that harbored fond memories of raising their two children. They had already engaged architect Greg Miller and contractor Sean Supple; however, they wanted to elevate the project and needed someone with a sharp design sensibility.

Specializing in new builds and extensive remodels, Dimitra Anderson Home eagerly embraced the opportunity to get involved during the schematic stage of design. “It’s so important to get the right team in place early when building your dream home,” advises Dimitra. “Whether we’re tweaking layout, cabinet design or window size, it’s much easier on paper than during construction.”

In the basement media room, a Bahia Mosaic handmade tile in a cobalt crackle and milk glass was used for the built-in bar with white oak stain-grade shelves injecting warmth into the design. “We added a Phillip Jeffries geometric wallpaper to ground the room,” shares Dimitra, “and a board-form concrete detail was used in the basement wells to give the concrete walls visual interest.” Steel barn doors separate the media room from the gym. “The furniture we specified for the project was for the most part neutral with a hint of pattern in each space,” she explains. “We carried citron yellows, blacks and blues throughout the house for a cohesive look.”

When Dimitra came on board, she quickly rolled up her sleeves and began red-lining the schematic design of the house along with designing the interior elevations. Custom built-ins. An intuitive kitchen layout. Extra office space. Two powder room additions. Even an ADU to expand the home’s square footage. Tapping years of experience, Dimitra applied her designer’s eye to maximize the property’s potential. “We went through a thoughtful process to make the home unique and as livable as possible,” she recounts. “Nothing is cookie-cutter—every room tells a little story.” The result: a stylish new home that celebrates a family’s roots and an exciting new chapter ahead.

Words by Esther Young

Walk past this brightly-lit Menlo Park gallery, and the playful illustrations and zany mythical creatures of Dr. Seuss immediately catch your eye. There in the window: bronze statues of Horton gently cradling Whoville, the fluffy mustached Lorax and Yertle smugly grinning at the top of the turtle heap. Should the child at your side (or in your heart) tug at you to explore, you’d be well served to follow the nudge.

“What we have is some very iconic imagery that hits people emotionally,” Elisa Spurlin sums up. As the keeper of Peabody Gallery & Framing—and the stories their collections tell—she greets the power of nostalgia every day. “You can hear through the windows,” she says of the glass-walled gallery on a street corner. “You can hear the grandparents saying, ‘I read that one to you.’ And the kids going, ‘Horton! Lorax! Look, Daddy, the cat!’”

As one of a select few authorized U.S. sellers of the artwork of Theodor (Ted) Seuss Geisel, Elisa recognizes that most visitors know Dr. Seuss through the 44 books he wrote and illustrated for children. “If we get an opportunity to talk with them about the broader scope of his work,” she says, “then they fall in love with the whole concept of the man and his talent.”

Delightful as it is to interact with the curious and imagination-driven, Elisa never planned on becoming an art vendor. As business partners, Elisa and her parents, Adrian and Sharon Thornton, ventured through the worlds of small and large business ownership alike before purchasing five FastFrame stores in the early ‘90s.

Their walls displayed framed posters showcasing their primary service: custom picture framing. But customers who brought in posters hesitated to pay the full price, and Elisa and her parents could see why. It’s hard to reconcile investing in a $200 frame for a $25 poster. “The value’s askew, so we got into art initially as a way to reduce that delta,” Elisa recounts. Bit by bit, art collecting drew them further in, and their FastFrame franchises began to feel more like galleries.

As small business owners at heart, Elisa and her parents decided to focus on one store and sell the rest. To better connect with art publishers, they added “Peabody Gallery” to their franchise name, honoring the fluffy five-pound Maltese that came to work with them each day.

While attending the art expo at New York’s Javits Center in 1997, Elisa heard intriguing rumors of a Dr. Seuss collection. She spent two days searching the expansive convention hall for the iconic Seuss characters. “I remember reading the books,” she says. “I just love Horton. He was always my favorite.”

When she finally tracked down the exhibit, she discovered an unlabeled posthumous debut, including “secret” works painted for the artist’s own enjoyment, never seen in books. “He was an artist who played around with styles,” Elisa learned. “His widow wanted the world to see the bigger talent that he had.” On the opposite panels hung paintings featuring the Peanuts characters. These were not by Charles Schulz, but Tom Everhart, the sole individual authorized by Schulz to paint his characters. Enchanted by their whimsical, childlike qualities, Elisa recognized the future direction of Peabody Gallery.

After Peabody became an authorized dealer, Elisa and her parents began pulling in wider price points of artwork, including originals from other artists. They chose not to renew their FastFrame contract and turned their focus to growing their family-owned business and brand.

Although Peanuts and Dr. Seuss artworks are always on display, once a year, the Peabody Gallery runs a themed show dedicated to Seuss. This broader exhibit of his imagination, unbound by medium, rewards visitors with stories they never knew about the renowned author and illustrator. His works are broken into four categories: illustration art (limited-edition reproductions), bronze sculptures, secret art and sculptures done between 1929 and 1939, dating to Seuss’ advertising career.

“His first book didn’t come out until 1941,” Elisa offers by way of context. “Sport hunting was big back then, and he didn’t like that.” Inspired in part by an oil company’s ad campaign, Seuss created The Collection of Unorthodox Taxidermy as an alternative. These fantastical creatures—hand-painted resin mounted sculptures—include warnings to boaters. Like the devilish shark-toothed Sludge Tarp (encouraging you to clear sludge buildup… or else) and the pudgy Powerless Puffer (promoting proper preparation to avoid losing engine power mid-sea).

Elisa’s parents retired in 2020, so she’s embracing the role of Peabody’s primary storyteller. She enjoys watching the evolution of understanding—the journey from curiosity to collector. “People’s first reaction when they know nothing about it is that it’s for kids’ rooms,” she notes. “Dr. Seuss made the rhyming and the illustrations for here,” Elisa gestures with her hand to the height of a child. “But the message,” she says, placing a hand on her heart, “is for here, as an adult.”

She cites The Lorax as an example. “The Lorax is all about taking care of the environment and how one person can make a difference.” And then, there’s that much-beloved friend-to-all elephant. “Horton is all about ‘Don’t discriminate,’” she observes. “Everybody’s got a voice. Even if they’re not very vocal, they’ve got a voice. Listen, seek out, try to hear it.”

That’s why Elisa isn’t surprised that the gallery’s biggest Seuss collectors don’t even have kids. “Art is emotional, art is personal, and they just feel a connection,” she says. With her daughter now a high school senior, Elisa especially appreciates the way the gallery promotes engagement with all ages. “A lot of Seuss galleries are in tourist areas,” she says, “but we’re a community gallery. Like a neighbor, Dr. Seuss is always here.”

meet the cat in the hat – peabodygallery.com

Words by Johanna Harlow

The magic happens in an unassuming San Carlos warehouse. At Harlick Skating Boots—a custom bootmaker celebrating its 90th anniversary in 2023—wearable works of art have been elevating the sport for nearly a century now.

The breathtaking quality of Harlick’s ice (and roller) skates leaves no guesswork as to why they’ve found their way onto the feet of movie stars and Olympians. “Everything’s overbuilt on them,” explains owner Jason Kuhn. Behind him, a row of sleek leather boots-in-the-making perch expectantly above a workbench.

Not just long-lasting, each pair is also highly personalized. When skaters visit, Jason (and his father before him) ushers guests onto the “Queen’s Throne”—a modest, but comfy, chair elevated on a little carpeted platform. The subsequent 30-minute fitting includes meticulous measurements, traced outlines and foot impressions.

“When they’re sitting on the Queen’s Throne and I’m sitting there on my little shoemaker stool looking up at them, it’s very humbling, I tell ya,” Jason says with a warm smile. “You have to make this a selfless experience to make this the best experience for them. You put yourself in their shoes at every aspect of the fitting.”

In a world of ready-made clothing and mass-produced shoes, this labor-intensive process is highly unusual. “Not many people have custom footwear or even anything bespoke,” Jason observes. The crafting of a pair of Harlick skates—from leather room to made-to-order masterpiece—involves 20 hours and nearly two dozen machines.

The History

As Jason relays the purpose of each piece of equipment, his fingers brush across industrial sanders and Singer sewing machines with the familiarity of over two decades working their levers, pedals and buttons. He knows all about the boot oven and the buffing wheel, the tongue press and the tender spot eradicator. Pausing before a McKay Stitcher, Jason taps a faded plaque: “This is the Model A—meaning it’s the first model!” Some of the tools of the trade in this room have been in use for well over half a century.

Jason himself hails from a long shoemaker lineage. “My great-grandfather’s dad moved from Scotland, and he had a shoemaking background. And his dad did. And his dad did. So I’m an eighth-generation cordwainer,” he shares, referring to the proper title of leather shoe makers.

Harlick came into Jason’s family after his great-grandparents Bob and Bonnie bought the business from Lou Harlick. In a twist of fate, the company’s founder specialized in equestrian boots and ballet slippers when he set up shop in 1933. However, his original store was above the office of The Ice Capades, and soon performers of the traveling ice show began venturing upstairs for skate fittings. “That’s where the niche kind of started,” Jason chuckles.

After graduating high school, Jason started working under his father, Phil Kuhn. Recently, he took the helm.

Jason laces up the skates of his youngest of five sons, Jalen

Olympic Feet

As Jason pauses beside the sole press machine, he makes a confession: He’s only been out on the ice three times in his life. “The third time I ever went ice skating was at Kristi Yamaguchi’s 25th anniversary gold medal celebration at Nazareth Ice Oasis San Mateo,” he recalls. “Her mom and sister told me, ‘You gotta get out there and skate!’”

Kristi isn’t the only skating star Jason’s on a first name basis with. After all, Harlick has also shoed Olympic medalists like Peggy Fleming, Nancy Kerrigan (Tonya Harding too), Scott Hamilton, Tara Lipinski, Nathan Chen and Brian Boitano.

“Let’s call Brian and see if he wants to put his two cents in,” Jason says, casually calling up the figure skating legend on his phone. The gold-medal Olympian answers on the second ring.

“They’ve given great quality through my career,” affirms Brian, who has ordered his skates here since he was a tween. “It’s hard to find products in this industry that are handmade.” He adds, “His dad used to make boots over and over again for me, and I’d say, ‘There’s something not right.’ So he’d start from scratch! The TLC man, I tell you, it’s the VIP treatment.”

A pair of black leather Harlicks with American flags graced Brian’s feet during his electrifying 1988 win at Calgary. “They’re in the Smithsonian with my costume,” shares the athlete. By the time Jason hangs up, the two have planned a “skate date” to the San FranDisco roller rink for the following week.

The Boot Shaman

Though its dedication to quality continues, Harlick has recently seen a shift. “We used to be 90% white ice skates,” Jason reflects—but that changed when he took over the business during the shelter-in-place. As stir-crazy people sought pandemic-friendly activities, they turned to roller skating. All of a sudden, this dated hobby regained traction. Determined not to lose Harlick’s edge as ice rinks began shutting down, Jason kept on his toes by rising to meet the new demand. He also started offering virtual fittings.

“If anything, we got busier!” he asserts. “If you didn’t pivot over COVID, you got left behind.” Soon, social media influencers started approaching Harlick. This new demographic wanted colorful skates to match their colorful personalities. Jason was more than happy to oblige. “You start to see these other creative individuals and you just gotta vibe with them,” he explains. He even made a pair for pop singer Pink to wear during live performances.

Jason still makes sleek boots in black, white and russet leather brown. But he also crafts ones in snake print and metallics with glittery soles. He’s detailed heels with everything from snowflakes to sunflowers, moons to manatees, doves to dinos. “They’re functional pieces of art,” notes Jason.
As Jason taps into his imaginative side, he’s embraced a playful nickname: the Boot Shaman. “When we’re going through the colors in the leather room, you kind of read their souls. But the soles of their feet, you know?… Oftentimes I’ll see it and I know, ‘Okay, this is you.’”

Harlick Goes Hollywood

Actors are also big fans. Remember when Will Ferrell competes with Jon Heder as the first-ever male-male pair team in Blades of Glory? Ferrell sports Harlick skates during those scenes. So does Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson when causing mischief during an ice hockey game in Tooth Fairy. “He was a size 15,” Jason marvels.

Even so, they aren’t the biggest order Harlick has filled. That distinction goes to Dame Drummer, an R&B music producer and artist who came in at a size 17. “He wanted big ol’ giant purple ones with leopard print and his logo on the side,” Jason recalls.

He recounts when Michelle Trachtenberg (known for roles in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Gossip Girl and Harriet the Spy) took the Queen’s Throne for her upcoming film Ice Princess. After the movie came out, Jason remembers the thrill of finding DVDs with Michelle in her competition outfit and custom Harlick skates at Blockbuster. “They would be four or five deep, and I would just spread them all the way across,” he chuckles. “‘Look everybody, look!’”

No matter how many super-athletes they equip to vault into the air in flawless triple axles, Harlick stays grounded. And whoever steps into the store is guaranteed the same royal treatment as the stars. “I’m just a humble bootmaker,” Jason stresses.

Cutting-Edge Creations: harlick.com

Words by Johanna Harlow

Make the holidays festive with a taste of the season.

après village

East Palo Alto

Craving a winter wonderland? Check out Après Village, a reimagined alpine experience that pops up seasonally at Four Seasons Silicon Valley. With a menu inspired by famous ski destinations, savor smoked chicken poutine, torched raclette cheese and Wagyu brisket sliders. Or dip sourdough chunks, apples, pickled pearl onions and Lanjaeger sausage into a rich fondue of Gruyere, Comté, Swiss and Emmental cheese. Warm up with signature cocktails like Rudolph’s Mulled Wine or Popcorn Buttered Rum. And after your meal, cozy up with blankets by the fire pits to roast s’mores with house-made graham crackers and vanilla bean marshmallows. If you’re not too stuffed to move, take a few laps around the “ice” on the hotel’s synthetic skate rink. 2050 University Avenue. Open 4PM to 9PM Friday to Sunday through February 25, 2023. Available for private events/celebrations Monday to Thursday.

romolo’s cannoli

San Mateo

Here’s something sweet, creamy and absolutely worth the calorie count. Family-owned and operated since 1968, Romolo’s is famous for their ricotta-filled cannoli, but those “in the know” also have high praise for their eggnog. Only available during the month of December, a piping-hot cup of this indulgent, custard-like beverage is just the thing to put you in the holiday spirit. And if you want to take the edge off the stress of holiday shopping, perhaps add a splash of bourbon. We won’t tell anyone, if you don’t. 81 37th Avenue. Open Tuesday to Saturday from 11AM to 6PM; Sunday from 12 to 4PM. Closed Mondays.

copenhagen bakery

Burlingame

After 45 years, downtown Burlingame’s Copenhagen Bakery came into new ownership this year—but brothers Sean and Ali Azad have preserved all the flaky Danish pastries and specialty cakes locals have come to appreciate over the years. That includes their holiday offerings! Expect Christmas tree-shaped coffee cake, holiday stollen (traditional German Christmas bread) and Danish Christmas butter cookies. Copenhagen also crafts elaborate gingerbread houses as well as the residents of these frosted dwellings (AKA gingerbread men and women). One of their most popular cakes, the dome-shaped Princess Cake with custard and whipped cream filling and a layer of raspberry, will also get a seasonal twist with icing-etched pine trees. 1216 Burlingame Avenue. Open Monday to Saturday from 6AM to 9PM; Sunday from 7AM to 9PM.

Words by Katie Shiver

For Chris Kummerer and Emilie Blase of Menlo Park’s residential design firm, CKA Architects, careers in design were clear from the start.
Chris’ love of skateboarding sparked his journey into both the design and administrative elements of architecture. In high school, he designed and proposed a public skate ramp, which was funded by the Saratoga City Council. Navigating the politics, build and eventual destruction of the ramp due to noise—ironic because Highway 85 opened in the area shortly after—was a lesson that has served him well into today, giving him poise and making the public hearings that are involved in some architectural projects a familiar environment.

Coming from a Chicago family of mechanical and electrical engineers, Emilie knew from a young age that she didn’t want to join them on that path. Instinctively drawn to design, she grew up “making floor plans out of Legos.” Admiring Emilie’s early recognition of a creative calling, Chris refers to her as “one of the few people that did what they wanted to do.”
The couple met at the University of Oregon (architecture degree for Chris and interior architecture for Emilie) then moved together to the Peninsula.

Two majestic redwoods in the front yard were a defining feature of this Menlo Park house and also its biggest challenge. The basement and first floor were kept far enough away to protect the trees. CKA’s design allowed for optimal tree viewing from various points in the house, including through the windows of this dramatic two-story entry.

After college, Emilie took a job in lighting design, then joined an architecture firm. Chris initially worked as a framer in construction, which gave him an appreciation for the complexities of building. “It’s ‘easy’ to design something,” he says, “but to turn the ideas into reality requires a respect for the construction process.” It’s a concept Chris has embraced throughout his career. “Be creative with your design but make it buildable at the same time,” he summarizes.

A back injury put a damper on Chris’ body-intensive construction work, so he started designing small projects like bathroom remodels for family friends. In 2001, at age 27, he started his own firm, CKA Architects. Entrepreneurial and eager to build his business, Chris auctioned off hours of work for the school his mother taught at in Saratoga, which turned into a larger project and then referrals for more projects.

In 2005, when CKA grew to the point where Chris needed help, he joined forces with Emilie, working out of their home for several years until getting an office in 2010. Based in Menlo Park ever since, they walk past many of their projects on a regular basis. In what Chris describes as a natural progression, CKA tackles everything from remodels to complete tear-downs and new construction.

The goal in this new construction: delivering the optimal West Coast indoor/outdoor living experience. Located just blocks from urban downtown Saratoga, the result is a private oasis overlooking a creek.

How does a married couple also maintain a successful business partnership? They utilize their long history of solving design problems to reference what works and what doesn’t. Emilie cautions that designers can be myopic, but the husband-and-wife team pull each other “into a more unified design that becomes a better whole.” The boutique firm specializes in serving the local community—collaborating closely through each project’s life cycle—from concept design to permit coordination to construction.

Instead of prioritizing a particular style, CKA’s philosophy is to do the absolute best they can with each client’s vision. “At the end of the day,” Chris says, “it’s their house.” In line with this philosophy, Emilie taps into her expertise in historic preservation and her passion for “keeping the history and being true to what you have.” For a project in Palo Alto, CKA used antique stair banisters as the foundation for a kitchen island. Intricate ironwork delivered the desired effect for an artist homeowner in Menlo Park.

In the case of a recent Menlo Park project, CKA worked with an overseas couple moving here to live closer to their children and grandchildren. The challenge: design a two-story house that works for different generations. “Thinking about if a caretaker were to help, where would they be?,” explains Emilie. “And when the grandkids come, where do they go?” Solutions included primary suites on both floors, ramps instead of stairs anticipating any mobility issues and a pool to keep the grandkids entertained. “We’ve heard the pool is a big success,” smiles Emilie, recalling a recent conversation with these clients-turned-friends.

A deliberate design feature, the central courtyard creates an organic connection throughout this Menlo Park home. Not only does it pull focus away from a busy side street, it also adds an intimate outdoor living space.

They take this hands-on collaborative approach with all of their projects. “When you come out of architecture school, you want to draw and you think it’s all about you,” Chris says as they both laugh, “then you learn quickly that it shouldn’t be.” Instead of sending design sketches to clients for feedback, Chris and Emilie sit with each client and sketch during live, working sessions. Staying “involved from the beginning all the way to the end” is a priority, says Chris. “And making sure that what we drew and what we talked about actually happens.”

When it comes to remodels, Emilie says you have to be ready for the unexpected. “You don’t know what’s behind the paint sometimes,” she points out. “You have to think on your feet during construction.” Chris credits his hands-on experience with helping streamline the process—he closely collaborates with builders instead of mandating what needs to be done. “Clients can get on with their lives,” he says, “and they don’t have to micromanage the construction project.”

Featuring clean contemporary lines, this Atherton ADU (accessory dwelling unit) is an independent structure that doubles as a pool house and a guest house. ADU design and construction is on the rise and gives clients compact yet flexible space. CKA designed the ADU, pool and patio to seamlessly integrate with the existing home and gardens.

With remote work becoming the norm, CKA is seeing an increasing emphasis on thoughtful home office design, along with homeowners seeking spaces that offer reprieve—like meditation and exercise rooms. Whatever the desired outcome, fostering a successful partnership is always the foundation for Chris and Emilie. “Our work reflects the people who make up the design team, and that includes the client,” says Chris. “With collaboration, we get better ideas than any one person could think of themselves. Working together, we create a space that becomes someone’s home and that has lasting value.”

collaborative approach

cka-architects.com

Words by Johanna Harlow

Ever experienced waking moments that feel like you’re walking through a dream? Palo Alto painter Sammy Koh (known to her more than 13,000 Instagram followers as colorstory_sammy) captures ephemeral moments through hyperrealistic dreamscapes. Justly so, considering her tendency to paint from midnight to morning.

“No one needs me,” Sammy explains of her nocturnal sessions. An attentive mother, she dedicates daylight hours to cooking and chauffeur duties. But at night, it’s just her and the canvas. (There’s always time for a nap after breakfast and dinner to keep her going.)

The “Mom” coffee mug, full of paintbrushes in the home studio, should be another hint that the artist’s paintings are a family affair. Sammy’s father fueled her love of nature with trips to the forest-covered mountains near Seoul. Sammy’s son, a fan of her style, is planning to print her paintings on clothing. And when Sammy scouts for painting inspiration, her daughter often joins, camera in hand. “It was always my daughter with me,” Sammy fondly shares.

As mother and daughter wander Peninsula neighborhoods and beyond to capture surreal landscape scenes, they chase the rising sun. The artist prefers pre-dawn outings to sunset excursions. “There are many people on the street,” she says of the evenings, “but in the morning, it’s just you—alone. It’s more like a dream.” And wandering around in the dark and the stillness makes for an ethereal experience. “You have to arrive one hour before if it’s a place you’ve never been before,” she remarks. “You have to prepare. It’s only a 30-minute moment.”

Another reason Sammy loves this time of day are the colors claiming the horizon. Often, she juxtaposes splashes of pink with darker shades of teal—the color of trees still cloaked by nighttime. Romantic yet anchored somehow. “I would like people to experience peaceful moments through my paintings,” she shares.

Another dream-like motif is the moon, which ranges in size from the smallest of specks (as if captured through the viewfinder of a camera) to large and looming behind a desert cactus. Window reflections and shadows are also her muses, providing subtle glimpses into other places. Easily missed at first glance, they evoke the feeling you get when you comprehend that you’re not awake, the idea only beginning to form at the back of your brain.

Something else sets Sammy apart. The miniscule brushstrokes of this painstakingly-detailed artist often get her work mistaken as photographs. One cactus could take her up to 10 hours. Why this meticulousness? “Because I can,” Sammy laughs. “I like the process,” she adds. “It’s like a meditation.”

Sammy’s journey in paint began at the age of 10, after which she picked up a variety of techniques at Seoul’s prestigious Sun-wha Art High School. Following college studies in graphic design, she worked as a children’s book illustrator before moving with her family from South Korea to California in 2009.

After offering a portrait painting class, Sammy realized her affinity for landscapes when students asked to explore a more scenic focus. Still, she finds herself drawn to places touched by humanity rather than purely wild terrain. “I want to show nature where people can go,” she explains. “I don’t like nature people can’t reach—I can’t connect with it.” It’s that need for connection that also attracts her to painting houses. “People live there,” she observes, “so it’s meaningful.”

When the pandemic temporarily halted Sammy’s classes, she and her paintbrush were left to their own devices. “I had time to focus on my artwork,” she notes with a smile. Soon, she began capturing neighborhoods around Mountain View and Palo Alto—a church on Waverly Street, a lamp on California Avenue—as well as more natural settings. “It’s beautiful by the Bay,” relays Sammy, who loves a wide-open horizon, especially when accented by a solitary tree.

With her newfound free time, Sammy flourished. In addition to attracting the attention of several art publications, Sammy was featured in a group exhibition at Palo Alto Art Center. Her landscapes earned her a solo show at the Korean Consulate General in San Francisco, along with an upcoming one at Art Mora in New Jersey.

As Sammy continues to hone her style, her work has become increasingly introspective. Her landscapes are in some ways less realistic than they once were—but in a way they ruminate not only on place, but on the idea of memory. “At the beginning, I was a little shy… so I wanted to talk about nature being beautiful,” she ventures. “I said that. Now I want to talk about me more.”

She motions at a painting of trees rooted to a tabletop. “I’m remembering a forest in my life,” she describes. The table (and indoor spaces more generally) represents daily life as well as her internal self as she shelves memories of each trip. “Sometimes I make a bright light to highlight the moment,” she adds, gesturing at the painted pendant lamp illuminating the scene from above. Next, Sammy calls attention to a painting of a cactus. It’s rooted on a bed with tousled sheets, representing a drowsy, quiet morning of self-reflection after the artist returned from Palm Springs. “I think of the trip the morning after in bed,” she explains.

Speaking of sweet remembrances… Sammy gives a mischievous grin as she reveals her stash of retired art supplies, sentimentally tucked away in a drawer. “See the dead brushes? I want to keep them!” Given that she goes through several per painting, she’s got quite the graveyard.

Today, Sammy’s classes have made a comeback. She works with immigrant mothers from Korea, a decision inspired by her own rough transition to life in a new country. “If I mix Koreans and Americans, they have to focus on how they speak,” she explains, a little apologetically. But this intentional environment allows these women the chance for fellowship and creativity in their native tongue. “It’s a healing time,” Sammy notes.

She also finds that their experiences add depth to their artwork. “They know how to endure,” Sammy states simply. “Patience is better than skill.” Additionally, she encourages these ladies to seek meaningful ways to fill their time. “Just don’t focus on only children,” she advises other mothers. “Think about after they leave.”

Sammy is readying for this season in her own life with her son attending his first year of college and her daughter on the threshold. “My husband has to travel on business trips a lot. If I’m busy, it’s better for me,” Sammy adds. “I don’t have time to be lonely! I’m busy!”

As Sammy reflects on her life’s trajectory, she recalls one of her early fantasies. “I thought, ‘Even when I’m in my eighties, a grandma, I want to be an artist.’” She’s on track to make that happen. Not only is she painting the dream, she’s living it.

drift off

colorstorysammy.com